Page 63 of The Rest is History
‘Charlie? Did you hear what I just said?’
Those eyes flick up from my neck to find my face, and, God, it’s intense being under their blue beam.
‘Come to mine for dinner tomorrow night. I’ll cook.’
My entire body breaks out in goosebumps. I was imagining a glass of wine in a quiet bar. Maybe dinner in a bistro. Not being alone with Charlie Vaughan in his man cave.
Which probably smells of him.
Where there is—presumably—a bed.
Oh my God.
I may not survive this.
CHARLIE
This was a bad idea.
I stand on the porch of my home (Utopia, if you must know. I can never resist a Thomas More reference). The early evening sunlight picks out Elodie’s approaching figure across the driveway’s lengthening shadows as I take in the view.
And what a view. A flirty little sundress exposing those legs. Buttons from bust to waist. My fingers are already itching to undo them. Her glorious mane of hair, backlit against the golden light.
She’s staring at the house in astonishment. I may have some questions to answer later.
Thrilled as I am to see her, I maintain that this was a bad idea.
Because until now, my home has been my fortress. Some small reprieve from the woman who haunts my thoughts. And I’m about to let her infiltrate it.
From now on, I won’t be able to sit on the sofa or cook at the island or enjoy the view from the terrace across the lawn without knowing how much better it is with her by my side.
Not that it really makes a difference. I’m fucked anyway.
We behaved ourselves at school today. The anticipation of tonight’s date seemed to give her as much of a kick as it did me. But when Zara was out of the office, she came to me at my desk, and slid a hand under the collar of my shirt, and sighed as if having her skin on mine made her happy.
And me? I took the opportunity to run my hand up the back of her bare leg as I stared up at her in disbelief.
Now I smile as she wheels her bike across the gravel.
‘Nice pad, Vaughan.’
‘Thank you.’
‘So which is it—drug baron or crypto millionaire?’
My dogs choose that moment to tear out of the door in twin black streaks, having presumably heard an exciting new voice. Doesn’t happen much around here. They launch themselves at Elodie, barking and throwing themselves around in circles. Ridiculous creatures.
‘Oh my goodness!’
She kicks out the bike stand and stoops to greet them. Lucky fuckers.
‘Hi there! Look at you two! Aren’t you handsome? Aren’t you?’
I wince as Luke’s slobbering tongue catches her right on the cheek. Leia has meanwhile collapsed on her back, wriggling from side to side in delighted anticipation of a tummy rub.
‘Oi!’ I shout in mydon’t fuck with mevoice. ‘Down!’
‘Oh, he’s okay,’ Elodie says, catching Luke’s large head in her hands and giving him an ear rub. ‘Aren’t you? What’re their names?’
